


Ozzie Loves The Scottie

by MicroGalaxies



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Coal Hill School, F/M, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicroGalaxies/pseuds/MicroGalaxies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, the talk of the school was Ozzie and the Squaddie- but that's ancient history in the minds of secondary schoolers. How will the new meme of Ozzie and the Scottie travel across Coal Hill now that the two involved are hopelessly in love with one another, yet too shy to admit it to each other?</p><p>(INDEFINITE HIATUS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Graffiti

The Doctor, known as John Smith to his employers, had been the official main Caretaker at Coal Hill Secondary School for quite some time now. Every so often Mr. Atif would fall ill while John was still secondary-substitute, and eventually retired due to some chronic illness. Little did anyone know that Mr. Smith was actually a time-traveling alien, let alone the person who had managed to hypnotize Mr. Atif into quitting his job. Only two people at Coal Hill knew of his true identity- Ms. Clara Oswald, English teacher and a traveling companion outside of work, and a student by the name of Courtney Woods by default due to an accidental run-in during his first stint as caretaker. Besides that, The Doctor had peacefully worked as a caretaker, keeping his true intentions under wraps...or so he thought. 

Truth be told, he had more than just friendly feelings towards Clara Oswald. She was his Carer- she understood that in his new, older body that he didn't perceive emotions well and couldn't sympathize whatsoever, yet she did so much more than just understand. She sat with him in the TARDIS, writing him cards to use when he couldn't process one emotion or another from others. Clara would also make allusions to him and some TV character -she had said it was some American comedy show- asking him to at least say the odd nonsense phrase 'bazinga' once in a while. But all-in-all, Clara was definitely more than just a friend. She was a part of him.

The Doctor pulled on his orange janitor's coat, grabbing a broom and beginning his evening routine. First it was sweeping, then it was mopping, and third would be waxing if it was the beginning of a holiday. Luckily the push-broom the school had supplied him with could do a hallway in one long swipe, so he was on to mopping. To his dismay, mopping dealt with all washing-related chores. Graffiti washing, occasional dusting, and restroom cleaning were part of that job. To his benefit, today was only double-duty: graffiti cleaning while in the restrooms. Earlier that morning the secretary had dropped off a pink slip informing him about writing in the bathroom that needed to be removed immediately. So there he was, actually having to work a profession he pretended to work as. He pulled the yellow elbow-height gloves onto his hands, grunting as he had to put the second one on with assistance from his mouth and teeth. He grabbed his mop, wiping down the floors full of dirt and grime, and moved onto the stalls. The Time Lord grabbed his sonic screwdriver from his breast pocket, aiming it at the toilets, erasing them of germs on a microscopic level. Sure, he had agreed to do the mundane cleaning, but he never agreed to do it without advanced futuristic technology. 

After each toilet was cleaned appropriately, he began to search for the infamous graffiti. And what a motherlode he found. ' _Coal Hill sux_ ', a plethora of ' _fuck_ 's/' _fuck you_ 's, various musical logos about blinking almost 200 times, twenty or so pilots, one's romance in chemistry class...

Then there is was, written in bold sharpie marker for all to see.  
" **Ozzie loves the Scottie** "  
The 'i' in Scottie even had a heart instead of a dot.

The Doctor let out a very heated 'harrumph', his cheeks turning a bright reddish-pink. He begrudgingly grabbed his pad of steel wool, erasing every crude doodle and phrase...except that one. He simply couldn't do it. Maybe because none of them proved a point? Or said something...factual? The alien himself didn't even know the true way to define his feels for said 'Ozzie'. He had fancied her in his previous body before he regenerated and vice versa, but that had been before he became...this. So dark and cold and...old. So old. No one could love a grumpy old man like him. Clara had invested herself in Danny, so she obviously had moved on from him. He wasn't even on her mental radar when it came to relationships anymore.

He left the girl's restroom that evening, unable to get the gumption to remove that single sentence.


	2. Chapter 2 - Halloween

Halloween had really never been a huge holiday when Clara was a child. It was some American holiday started from Pagans or Christians or whoever hit the Colonies first and started celebrating the fall harvest. Nowadays it was simply a day for costumes and candy in the States, which had slowly put a parasite on the UK and let the idea of Halloween flourish.

So there Clara Oswald was dressed head-to-toe in a witch costume. She had bought it online, and expected a black sheet and pointy hat. Instead she stood in a slightly sultry but completely school-appropriate robe, with tulle underneath with an emerald skirt with a traditional black overskirt, a leathery corset-like vest covering her abdomen, with long sleeves draped over his arms. Her hair was slightly curled, and wore her black pointy hat. A plastic cauldron of various candies sat on her desk, while paper bats and pumpkins hung from the ceiling. Most of the older students at Coal Hill just wore gory makeup and whatnot, but her students were still young enough to truly enjoy the holiday that had just become popular in their country.

Her students came into the room in countless different costumes, such as pirates, superheroes, zombies, and witches. Courtney Woods came to class in her old Coal Hill uniform from past years, but it was torn and doused in fake blood, her decaying skin looking so real it sent a chill up Clara's spine and led to her later winning the grade's costume contest. Clara had overheard some comment about Courtney's cousin being a makeup artist, and boasted that her special effects were top-of-the-line material. The Doctor had complained a few weeks prior of such costume-boasting. He went on a tangent about how Halloween was like a low-key human mating ritual- showing off in gaudy costumes and makeup to impress others. Clara, however, had simply shrugged it off and left him to go buy her costume.

Little did Clara realize that the mating ritual side of Halloween would come to her very soon, in the form of The Doctor himself. About thirty minutes into the party itself, there was a knock at the door. "Courtney, could you grab that?" Clara asked, supervising the bobbing-for-apples game and handing out towels. The kids were laughing and smiling, as Clara assumed the knock on the door was yet another student coming in from the restrooms. 

She didn't expect the familiar riff of " _Pretty Woman_ ".

The entire party went silent and wide-eyed in awe, staring at the familiar staff member in the doorway. Instead of his usual modern work garb, he wore his regular get-up: plaid pants, black Dr Martens, an old grey band shirt, and his hoodie-jacket combo. His hair was extra unkempt and floofy, his sonic sunglasses covering his blue-green eyes. The kids applauded at his handiwork on his classic black-and-white Fender before he broke into another song, playing the intro to ACDC's " _Back In Black_ ", receiving yet another roar of applause from the class, and a polite clap from a blushing Clara. "I never knew Mr. Smith could shred!" Gasped one student, gaping in awe at a fellow peer. "You like that?" the Time Lord asked aloud, like a true musician at a real concert. The kids rejoiced happily as he shredded " _Crazy Train_ " as some of the kids tapped along on the desks, familiar with the classic American rock song. Clara grinned at his alien equivalent to a peacock strutting his stuff with his train of feathers. He moved his head down as he finished the song, looking over his glasses at Clara as he strummed a faster-paced rock song, moving towards Clara as he began to strum The White Stripes.

" _Fell in love with a girl,_  
fell in love once and almost completely  
she's in love with the world,  
but sometimes these feelings can be so misleading,  
she turns and says are you alright?  
I said I must be fine cause my heart's still beating-  
come and kiss me by the riverside,  
bobby says it's fine he don't consider it cheating."

He sang, causing a hum of murmurs as he looked towards Clara, before making a final riff in heading towards the door, calling out "Happy Halloween!" to the class before waltzing out of the room, leaving the class abuzz and Ms. Clara Oswald in studded silence with her face blushing bright red.


	3. Chapter 2 - Graffiti II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: There is small section of war flashbacks in the beginning of the chapter. It includes gore, violence, and may possibly be PTSD triggering. I tried to be a real as possible (the war happens to be WWI and I recently studied it) with the description, so it might be unsuitable for some readers.

Old Mr. Smith, AKA The Doctor himself, stood in the familiar girl's bathroom, yet another pink complaint slip in his hand.

No school today. November 11th. Armistice Day. Remembrance Day.

On the 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month, in 1918.

He remembered it as clear as day. He had only been away from Gallifrey for a few hundred or so years, and decided to have some fun. Apparently the current conflicts on Earth were being described as a 'splendid little war', so the alien decided to go and waste some time and possibly get a kick out of the barbaric human warfare.

He was so wrong.

Theta -back when he didn't go by The Doctor- was assigned to the Western Front. The trenches. He was sent to the front lines- mostly he did 'rat duty', which was clubbing the rats that swarmed the trenches with his military-issued shovel. But when it came to protecting their front, he was the same as almost any other soldier. He fired shotguns, helped load machine guns, and threw grenades. Eventually death became normal to him. No one could safely venture out into the mud of no-man's land to retrieve the fallen, so they decayed and turned to white-yellow bones as the giant rodents and the rain ate away at their flesh. When grenades and artillery missed and exploded beyond their wire fence, the grey cloudy skies filled with a red-pink mist from the blast. No one spoke of it, but they all knew it was the stale blood of bodies left behind, spurting out forcefully for one last time. 

He was scarred to a point- but he soon learned that this race was alike in appearance, but barely alike in beliefs and actions. Gallifreyans glorified war. It was necessary, but time of peace was best- but when war did come, a Gallifreyan should feel honored to be chosen to fight for their people's cause. Humans, did feel the same sense of pride in a way, but it was more an enforced emotion with Gallifreyans by the High Council. Mutiny was less common with their armies and death was considered an easy, painless punishment compared to regeneration torture, which was constant violence and killing, causing the renegade to regenerate over and over, beaten to regeneration each time until eventual death. By the time he was remembering all this, mind you, the torture had been declared illegal and the Council members were stripped of Time Lord status, regeneration abilities, and were exiled.

But all in all, he wasn't truly scarred due to his Gallifreyan mindset. What he saw was merely like a medical student in a hospital- knowledge and information to be collected and categorized for later use. 

He sonic-ed to toilets, dropping blue cleaning gel in them and turning up the seats for a full _I-actually-cleaned-these-with-my-bare-hands_ look. This time he was handed the slip personally to him by the secretary and not in his staff mailbox. Upon reading it, complaining once more about the vandalism -now new- in the girl's lavatory. Apparently almost all of them containing the same phrase. After reading the pink slip over, he turned to the secretary. "Do you by chance subscribe to meme theory?" He asked, analyzing the slip as if there might be some new meaning to it if he stared hard enough. The woman began to say something, but he immediately interrupted. "Meme theory is a type of memetic epidemiology that suggests that items of gossip are like living things that seek to reproduce using humans as their host." He explained, even though she had begun to ignore him. "I think it infects children the most." He grimaced to himself.

So there he was, facing stalls with various scripts of handwriting, with the familiar daunting message: ' **Ozzie loves the Scottie** '.

He huffed, seeing that letting a single drawing slip from removal last month had now caused it to spread like wildfire. He took his spray bottle and washcloth, brandishing them at every ' _Ozzie loves the Scottie_ ' that occupied the set of stalls. As he did this, he sang softly to himself. " _Oh, I would do anything for love...  
I would do anything for love, but I won't do that._ "


	4. Chapter 4 - Grief Counseling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* a double post? Could it be? Yes, yes it is! Merry Christmas, everyone- may this be my gift to you, whether you celebrate it or not!

It was a damp and gloomy day at Coal Hill, the rain coming down steadily all day. Clara had stayed after school to have what she hoped would be her final appointment with Mr. Davenport, one of the multiple grief counselors but in place after Danny Pink's - _quite literal_ \- car accident. Clara had immediately enrolled in the counseling after his passing, unaware how he would come back as a Cyberman and whatnot. A spare set of offices had now become almost permanent residences for the three therapists. Mr. Davenport's office was small, with a desk, desk chair, and a cheap sofa -that was practically minuscule- shoved on the other side of the rectangle room. Generic framed wall art hung in the white room, a few plants growing on the windowsill behind the couch.

"Ah, Miss Oswald! How are you?" The counselor asked. Mr. Davenport was short and balding, wearing a nice thick cable-knit sweater. "I'm...I'm alright." Clara said with a slight smile. He pushed his wire-framed spectacles towards his nose, grabbing a clipboard with stacks of papers attached to it. He flipped through multiple sheets of forms and handwritten notes, finally reaching the desired page. "Last time was even before the fall holiday...I also apologize for being out the last few weeks as well, my brother lives in the States and insists that everyone comes there for this 'Thanksgiving' holiday they have. Food's quite good, thought." He added, biting the top of his pen absentmindedly as he spoke and also read up if her case file. "They roast a whole turkey and whatnot- but I mean...it's all boiled down to a day to stay home a literally eat until you feel comatose. And you know what they do the next morning? The stores open at like- _two_ in the morning! With the best sales of the whole year! I was dragged along with my family...and their version of Tesco is the worst for shopping on that day! Wally World? Wall's? I dunno. But it was an absolute madhouse!" He flicked to another page on the clipboard, "-ah, yes. Here we go. Before holiday, you seemed to be doing very well. So how are you going now?" 

Clara thought for a moment. How _was_ she doing? How had she managed to go from mourning girlfriend to such a strong, independent woman in such a short amount of time? She hadn't bothered to start dating again- there was no more interest in it for her. Men? Hah! Who needed them? A big buff man to bring home the paycheck and to watch football matches on TV with? Clara was already satisfied with her little flat and her online streaming services during football matches.

"I...I'm...I'm honestly okay." She began, getting more and more confident with each breath. "I'm..I'm doing more than okay, really. I'm...normal again. But not like going back to the old normal- more like making a new, better normal for myself." She explained, receiving a small nod and a silent signal to go on from Mr. Davenport. "I've matured so much since Danny died. I feel less like a little girl from Blackpool trying to make it in the big city. I feel like a full-fledged adult who...who can take risks and go on adventures and be independent."

Davenport nodded, jotting down notes with his pen before looking up. "So you're doing very well. That's quite good. Now, it seems like you may be in no need of my monthly help from this point on if you too feel the same. But if you disagree or wish to have appointments on an as-need basis, you've got my number." He added, "-but before we end this session...I do need to ask and confirm that whatever is bringing you the most happiness right now isn't temporary. After a loss that can be dangerous to have a high point that only lasts so long. You need to find a source of happiness for yourself or your life. A coping mechanism, yet a healthy habit." He explained as Clara nodded, her expression growing troubled right before she spoke.

"Well, I do...um, have this friend. We go and hang out on Wednesdays, and now it's becoming more frequent. I-it's not a relationship or a rebound boyfriend or anything, though. I'm pretty sure he's asexual.  
Not that I go about trying to find out each person's sexuality...but I mean, he's not even that keen on hugs." She explained, shifting in the small modern grey armchair. "And he made me realize that what I needed was a friend. A friend like him." She smiled, happy at the mere thought of The Doctor. Mr Davenport smiled warmly over at after after writing down more notes in her file. "I'm glad to hear that, Clara. Call me if you wish to set up another appointment, and if I don't see you between now and then, happy Christmas!" He called, after Clara shook his hand happily and walked out the door.


	5. Chapter Five - K-I-S-S-I-N-G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little chapter is dedicated to Tumblr user twxlfth-dxctor :)

Clara had mixed feelings about The Doctor working alongside her. Talk of TARDISes and daleks and cybermen and sonic screwdrivers were in forced whispers so they wouldn't draw even more attention to themselves. The first few months their colleague-to-colleague relationship consisted of Clara getting multiple books from the local library, including 'Social Issues for Dummies', 'Understanding Social Awkwardness', and 'Almost Normal: Being A Left Brain In A Right-Brain World'. After reading up on how to deal with the socially inept alien, she soon learned tips and tricks on how to keep him at least somewhat sociable. 

Earlier that day, The Doctor had a text pop up on his sonic sunglasses as he trimmed the hedges outside.   
**INCOMING TEXT MESSAGE: number: 112363 location: Shoreditch, United Kingdom, Earth. DO YOU WISH TO VEIW THE MESSAGE?**  
"View message" he replied as he trimmed a small bush into a round shape.   
**MESSAGE: Found some tips and tricks you might be interested in using when we travel and whatnot. Meet up in your office in 5th?**  
The Time Lord let out a noncommittal noise as he kept on landscaping. "Change contact name to Clara." He ordered, "reply to message- see you then".   
**CONTACT NAME CHANGED TO CLARA. MESSAGE SENT.**

Eventually fifth period arrived, and the children of Coal Hill began to head to lunch. However, a group of older students noticed a certain teacher staying behind. "Hold on- I think Ozzie's up to something." Said a pale blonde boy to his group of friends, looking over his shoulder from the line of nearby lockers. As he watched, Clara exited her classroom, grabbing her lanyard from her pocket and locking the door behind her. Instead of carrying a lunch bag, or even heading in their direction towards the teacher's lounge, however; she was empty-handed and walking towards the other side of the hallway. "Follow her" whispered a dark-skinned girl who was behind the boy. So the group of students pursued the young teacher, which consisted of the tall blond boy, the girl with a head of black curls, a rail-thin and tall girl with strawberry blonde hair, and short boy in glasses. Their names were Jonathan, Rayleene, April, and Simon respectively. They stayed at a distance, keeping at least ten or twelve feet from the staff member.

Clara eventually reached the door labeled ' _CARETAKER_ ', ignoring the chalkboard sign hung below it that read ' **GO AWAY HUMANS** ' and giving a small knock. The Doctor opened the door for her, unaware of the fact that the kids down the hall were spying on them. As the door shut, the students went to the door to listen to what was going on. "They're probably snogging" giggled April. "nah, I bet they're shagging." Retorted Jonathan, "Just kissing wouldn't happen in one of their own rooms. They'd lock the door in one of the teachers' bathrooms to snog." As the teens debated in heated whispers, Clara pulled a stack of flash cards from her pocket. "I made you these..." She began, "Since you're not too inviting with others, I thought these might help whenever you're in a bind." The Doctor took the cards, reading each one, secretly admiring Clara's stereotypically-girly handwriting. He was organizing his broom holder next the door as he read them."Thank you, Clara-" he began to say before one of the brooms fell, hitting the door with a thud. On the other side of said door, the teens had a very different idea of what made the noise. Rayleene let out a loud " _ooooh-_ " in a cooing voice as she called out " _Ozzie and Scottie, sittin in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!_ ", which caused Clara's face to turn bright red with both embarrassment and fury. "I'm sorry, Doctor. It appears there's something I need to take care of." She said sternly. After Rayleene's outburst, the kids scrambled off just as Clara shoved open the door, practically running after the nearest sound of footsteps.


	6. Chapter Six - Sex Ed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-post! Another chapter dedicated to twelfth-dxctor on Tumblr. :)

Today was the day Clara had been dreading for an entire year. For her first year of teaching, she wasn't put in the spotlight to teach Sex Ed to the class, but now that she was a veteran of Coal Hill, the time had finally come. Luckily for her, the boys in her class were sent to a male teacher for the day. She got all the girls in the grade, a fold-out table in front of the chalk board with various items scattered on it. An exemplar box of feminine products- tampons, pads, and an issued set of birth control pills for educational purposes.

Clara cleared her throat, causing the room of giggling and gossiping girls to quiet down. "As you could tell by the permission slips signed by all your parents, this is a change from your normal classes to teach all of you both sexual and reproductive system education. If by chance any of your parents did not sign the form or declined your participation on said form, please head to the gymnasium at this time." To her surprise, no one budged. Even the conservative helicopter-parents had signed on to their kids being given sex ed. Now Clara got to embarrass herself in front of all of the girls in the grade.

She sighed to herself, bringing up the chart on the tripod showing an anatomical drawing of the female reproductive system. "Does anyone know what this is? Don't feel like you need to say it if you're uncomfortable, just raise your hand." She said awkwardly. To her internal joy it seemed like every girl was aware of what she was showing them. "Good. So this will be a lot less painful" she sighed in relief to the girls, pointing at the bottom of the drawing. "First thing's first- let's start from the outside in: the labia." She said, looking at the darting eyes of the girls surrounding her in the room. "Trust me, guys." She sighed, losing her stern teacher-voice "I want to do this as much as you want to."

A few minutes went by. Then an hour. Then two hours. Then she finally let out a sigh of relief, smiling at her students. "Okay, now that we've finished, does anyone have any questions". With a sly smirk as she finalized her plan of attack in her head, Courtney Smith raised her hand. "Miss Oswald?" She asked innocently, her voice sugary sweet. With a minuscule sigh, Clara prepared to tackle whatever she had to ask. "Yes, Courtney?" She asked, returning the smile. "Can an older man and a younger woman have sex?" She said, seeing Clara's pupils dilate as she spoke, knowing that she had caught on. "My...Uncle...and his new wife are about thirty years apart." She explained, sounding awkward to ease her suspicions. Clara nodded, giving their benefit of the doubt. "Of course. Intercourse can technically occur at any age between two people of any age- but remember that the age of consent is very real". Then, out of the corner of her eye, another hand popped up- Ella Winster. "Yes- Ella?" She asked, missing the sly look the blonde girl gave Courtney before asking "I know that teens can have kids and almost any adults can, but women get menopause- but some women don't go through it. If that's the case, how does sex work with older people? And like Courtney's question, how does it work with an older man and younger woman- and vice-versa?"

"Sex works exactly the same. If the woman is older, pregnancy isn't possible after menopause. There's a rare possibility for pregnancy if the woman by chance never had menopause." She explained, "-if it's an older man, however, sexual performance pills such as Viagra help him still be sexually active. Unlike women, male reproductive systems never shut down- they simply just become slightly more difficult to function." Clara smiled, looking into the crowd of kids. "No more questions then, yeah?" To her luck, the 5th period bell rang, allowing her to sigh and shut her classroom door after the students dispersed, and pulling out her emergency flask of whiskey and chugging it before sprawling out in her chair and taking a well-earned nap.


End file.
